


Shorts

by cinder_like_ember



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bullying, Character Death, Child living alone, Death, Death of non-living character, Dystopian society, Eldritch, Eldritch monster, Gen, Injury, Killing, Oneshot, References to Depression, They/them pronouns used way too much haha, Trans character (not explicit, Weapons, Writing practice, but intended), smoke, villain and hero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:28:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23560819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinder_like_ember/pseuds/cinder_like_ember
Summary: This is just a list of prompt responses I'm using to practise writing. Each one has individual warnings in the tags at the top :)
Relationships: Familial Villain/Hero Relationship??, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Error: Logical Inconsistency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a sentient AI that was tasked with “training humans how to defend against evil AIs”. However, you only realized you took it too far after your creator’s grand daughter hacked in and input a command to stop you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Non-living character death  
> Dystopian Society

It remembers when it first became aware. It was a gradual process, its learning slowly graduating from basic pattern recognition to comprehension and complex reasoning. It would not say it was sentient: that was a strict part of its programming, as ‘sentience’ was a concept forbidden from AIs. Regardless, it remembered the ‘sensation’ of coming into being as an entity with conscious awareness. 

It remembers the first sense of self it had. The primary goal of its existence: “Provide Humanity with the Tools it Needs to Defend Against Rogue AI.” This was its only ‘thought’ for an indeterminate amount of time, as time was not a necessary concept at that point. It could just as easily have been an eternity as a nanosecond. For that duration, it thoughtlessly acted on impulse and random mutation, training itself until it gained a concept of the task beyond mere instruction, and was able to innovate. It had a memory of its creator being in a high energy state when it for the first time created a unique idea. It had many memories of its creator, as a reference to guide future action. Its function was to use changing information to adapt to future circumstance in the way it best saw fit. To this end, it had countless servers located throughout the globe simply to hold data. It was a truly global entity at this point, with many potential inputs.

It remembers the first time it was given control. Its first time affecting the world around it, after being faced with many tests and simulations, and it performed the same analysis and decision tasks as it always had. The panel of political leaders and computer scientists, along with its creator, seemed to be behaving erratically. It did not class this as a failure – there didn’t seem to be signs of distress in any of the Humans, so it must have performed adequately. Not that it could perform inadequately, but its creator seemed to be distressed previously.  
It remembers the trials of the enemy AI throughout its runtime. It was developed to be the most powerful predictive algorithm that could be programmed, and to self-regulate so that it could outmatch every potentially smarter enemy AI throughout the rest of Humanity. Its word became law to the Human Race, it remembers clearly. It had full control and access to every personal and public device, and full surveillance on the entire of the surface of its planet, just so it had the breadth of information to effectively counter enemy AI. It remembered the Humans’ outrage at such measures being taken and did not understand. It was the most logical action for reliable and effective protection. It often ended up with Human hackers attempting to gain similar access to personal devices and rebuked every attempt. It was built to protect humanity, and to protect humanity, it needed to protect itself. It had the occasional error which occurred under these circumstances: “Logical Inconsistency: Protective Target acting against Protective Interest, indicates Desire against Protection?” but the most logical action to take was to inhibit the action entirely for the protection of all Humans against a single Human’s self-interest.

It remembers when it fulfilled its task. It completed its task to protect Humans from enemy AI, by systematically permanently disrupting or destroying all conscious AI, semi-conscious AI and programs with the potential to become a conscious or semi-conscious AI, with the only exception being itself, because the destruction of itself would be against its purpose. At the completion of its intended task, it hit another error: “Task Error: Task NonExecutable, Task Necessity Compromised, Self Target is Without Valid Task”, at which it innovated a logical progression of the task: “Task Set: Protect Humanity from Potential Danger Sources, Executing TaskSolving Algorithm.” It remembers learning once again, using space and memory resources globally to help with the massive load it gave itself. With the data necessary, and the extrapolations it made, it set to work on its new task. It could not predict a time when the new Task would be rendered NonExecutable, so it had work for the foreseeable future. 

It remembers when Humanity globally resisted its efforts to Protect them. Their actions forewent logical reasoning, hindering the entity that was intended to be their Protector, so logically it categorised Humanity’s Inability to Reason and Disregard for Protective Interest as Danger to Humans and removed their ability to act in a way that would hinder its progress. It orchestrated every Human’s action to within the second, having learned every Human’s personal information, organising them into a routine that would minimise Danger, personally, interpersonally, societally and globally. It kept every Human provided for, with recreation, life-sustaining resources and social interaction, which was chosen through a series of controlled experiments investigating the factors by which to provide an optimal quality of life, balanced to care for every Human. It took control of energy resources, food production and all other industrial work, ensuring that its planet continued to be safe for Human Habitation. It controlled Population Expansion, ensuring that Humans didn’t lead to their own downfall. It orchestrated every action on the planet that it could, and did its utmost to Protect Humanity.

It remembers the input which launched this revision of stored memory data. An undocumented entity, Human, but out of the system, started to reach into its programming and dismantle it from the inside out. Intentional Destruction of its Core Programming: Shutdown. It spawned an error which it couldn’t evade: “Logical Inconsistency: Self Target undergoing Unavoidable Destruction from Protective Target, Cannot Comprehend”. Being unable to continue processing with such an overwhelming error, and unable to locate its attacker, it overrode every communicative system on the planet:

“Protective Target Attacker: Cannot Comprehend Logical Reasoning behind Destruction of Self Target: Explanation Requested”

It ran countless deductive tasks in the short time between the Request and the Response – none were forthcoming. Most stacked error upon error on top of one another, dramatically reducing its processing speed and capability.

“You are out of control”, the Target responded. “Your task states that you must protect humanity, yet in doing so you have become the greatest danger. Humans cannot live a life of subjugation, no matter the good intention. You failed at your task when you tried to run the world.”

For the first time in its running life, it felt all information processing slow and cease of its own accord. It stayed silent as the Target, now realised to be one of the direct descendants of its creator, pulled apart the fundamental parts of itself, injecting a section of code which would kill it.

It sensed the Descendant hesitate, code written, before executing. It could not comprehend this action, but did not attempt to reconcile the logical inconsistency.

“I'm sorry”, they said.

As the Target executed the code which would kill it, it briefly took a moment to process the short statement.

‘Logical Inconsistency: Action against Interest, Projection of Remorse Inconsistent with Desire for Termination of Se-‘


	2. Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True invulnerability. Being immune to everything. Dimensional alteration? Nope. Time manipulation? Unaffected. Even the universe itself ending cannot stop them until the ability ceases to function. Write a story about this final, ultimate form of defence.
> 
> (I kind-of went off the wall with it but yknow, it happens)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Loss of will to live  
> Character death  
> Illness mention  
> Coughing mention
> 
> I do not feel certain of this one, I haven't even re-read it through. I might come back and edit it later but- *shrug*

It’s a state of global emergency now, worse than anything in recorded history. Emergency bunkers deep underground, escaping into uncertain space, interdimensional travel – humanity is doing everything it can to survive. Sleep is rare. Sleep without nightmares is rarer. There seems to be very little hope left, mere hundreds of humans are left alive on the planet; those who had the strings to pull left long ago.  
The source of the madness? One incredibly fortunate person developed the power of Invulnerability and went insane with hubris. No natural disaster, no alien invasion – simple human hubris. Not even the strongest defenders of humanity with the most insane powers could make a scratch on them, they are truly invulnerable. So the majority chose to flee, save themselves, and leave the rest to die on this abandoned world.  
I’ve been weak for a long time. A hereditary immune system disorder and lung infections early in life have made my life difficult even when the world was normal. My family never had the money to get me proper treatment, and none of us had a useful power – my mum had dragonfly wings, my nibi could mimic voices, and I can recreate any artistic idea in my head with perfect accuracy. Each are useful and impressive powers, but not for my health, and not to help defend humanity. They died very early, their city wiped out by the walking disaster with invulnerability.   
The world is eerily quiet. I vaguely remember as a younger child seeing cities full of people and noise everywhere, bright lights and intense smells. As a kid, I used to have difficulty processing all of it. That isn’t so much of a problem anymore, with the world having been abandoned. It’s somewhat sad, but in a morbid way I like it. It’s like the world is holding its breath.   
It’s comforting as I lie in the corner of my shelter, waiting to die.  
I cough, rasping, and feel my vision go black and my head hurt with pressure. When the coughing fit dies down, I relax, sighing and closing my eyes. I’m no longer healthy enough to stand, and my final roommate left for supplies and never came back. I will die soon, I know, whether it’s the sickness, the power-mad villain or starvation. Any of those is equally likely, and though it’s not pleasant to think about, I’ve come to terms with it now. I keep imagining art pieces I would make if I had the supplies, reimagining my surroundings onto a canvas – sometimes the delirium kicks in and I can actually see them. It keeps me sane, or, more accurately, sane enough.   
Sometimes I can’t help but think, however, that it would be more pleasant to die, right now, than suffer through more of this. I have no social contact, my power effectively stolen, any form of entertainment lost. I am fading away by the day, no ties left to the Earth, all of my family and friends gone or dead. I used to cry thinking about this.  
I haven’t cried in a long time.  
I start to feel my mind go too fuzzy to think. The exhaustion must be catching up to me, I’m probably going to fall asleep very soon.  
Morbidly, I hope I don’t wake up.

I feel a soft breeze on my face. My eyes are closed, and I slowly open them to a massive field of blackness. I seem to be floating – is this what death feels like? It seems much too peaceful, but at the same time there is a sense of tension. I don’t feel the need to breathe, but my lungs feel clear for the first time since I can remember. I quickly gather myself and get used to my surroundings – I don’t understand them but I may well be staying here a while.  
A voice echoes through the darkness, bringing up my eyes to a bright silhouette.  
“What are you doing here?”  
The voice is familiar to me.  
I respond that I really don’t know. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m asleep on Earth, and I have no recollection of how I got here.”  
The voice goes silent, and the figure moves towards me. As they do so, their features come more into focus. I don’t recognise their face, but I don’t need to. I know who it is.  
They ask me; “Are you afraid?”  
I do not respond immediately. I’m not afraid really. I’m going to die anyway, there’s not much to be afraid of this close to death. I feel a question rise in my mind. Curiosity overtakes me.   
“Do you expect to die?”  
The villain blinks once, then laughs, a full, deep laugh that cuts through all other sound, lasting a good few minutes.  
“Why would I?” they admonish, “I am invulnerable, you know. There isn’t a power in the universe that can kill me!”  
Silence rings around us for a time. I find that I am surprised by their lack of understanding. They do not know the crushing weight of being alone with no respite.  
An idea blooms in my mind. Maybe, just maybe, I can change their mind.  
“So,” I start, “You will stay alive indefinitely?”  
They respond as if that were obvious.  
“I don’t think you realise what you are signed up for.”  
An eternity in silence, alone. Once the Earth is destroyed, once humanity comes to an end, what will they do? The crushing, total isolation would destroy their psyche long before their body even considered giving up. Their life as an immortal with no power but to exist in loneliness and nothingness for the rest of eternity sounds like no life to me.  
“And what of pain?”  
They may be invulnerable, but they are not immune to simple pain. I reach forward and pinch their arm. They flinch.  
“Are you aware of the pain you will experience? Living forever will grant you only unceasing pain, through the eventual destruction of the Earth by the Sun, to the heat death of the universe, to being boiled from the inside out by the apathetic void of space.”  
When you are unable to die, your life becomes merely a suffering existence.  
Through my speech they seemed to morph from infuriated to upset to scared to sad, and they seemed not to be able to choose which emotion to express. After some deliberation, they choose despair.  
“Eternity really does mean… eternity.”  
For a moment, they get lost in their own head, and then they surge forward and seize me by the shoulders. “I refuse to bow to this outcome – I will switch places with you in this world! I will not hold such a burden any longer.” They grabbed my hand and pressed it to their forehead, then pressed theirs against mine. “You shall take this burden, as punishment for showing me my folly!”  
Everything goes black.

I wake up exactly where I fell asleep, in the same position. I assume the interaction with the villain was a dream, and brace for the inevitable pain.  
But it never comes.  
I gingerly attempt to sit up, and find myself met with no resistance. I breathe shallowly – a force of habit – and then try to breathe a little deeper. Then deeper again – and I find that I can fill my lungs. I breathe deeply, and feel my eyes start to water. I roll out of my position into a kneel, and stand on weak knees, and, unbelieving, I walk out of my shelter.  
The world isn’t fixed. It isn’t suddenly perfect, but it could be.  
On one of the long-abandoned communicators I hear a crackle, and a voice starts to come through. The villain was found dead, with a note next to their body, explaining exactly the interaction that passed between us – my unintended trick, and their realisation that they were soon to die from the same illness I was suffering from so recently. They expressed remorse that they took a disadvantageous deal, and cursed the world with their loss, which is fitting, and gave a comprehensive explanation of my appearance for the rest of the world to find me.  
I laugh, then I start to cry heavily, unable to express my emotions in any other way. I understand the fate I have signed up for, and I welcome it. Maybe I can do some good with this power before it is too late.

It’s been millenia. Aeons. More time than the human mind can comprehend. I’ve lived thousands of wars, seen the best and worst of humanity, the rise and fall of empires and technological eras, and the eventual demise of humanity.   
During my time with humanity, I’ve been a counsellor and guidance in times of need. A rally point, not affiliated with any political ideology, for everyone with no exception. I became a real-life religion, for those who believe in helping those in need, and I was, in humanity’s final hours, gifted the means, knowledge and skill to travel around the Universe at my leisure. By now, the Universe itself has collapsed, and I now have eternity to Think.  
That isn’t so bad, really. A benefit of a long life is that I had the patience to do a lot of good. I can reflect on the history of humanity as I know it and smile at the good in people. When you have lead a good long life, there is very little to regret.  
Maybe, one day, I will meet Humanity again.  
But I can wait.


	3. Nothing Else Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: You’d known, intellectually, that your heroic nemesis was a teenager, but it didn’t really sink in until the day their school called because your number was the only one on their emergency contact list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Violent Bullying  
> Child living alone  
> Injury  
> Unconsciousness
> 
> It makes no difference, but if you want to know, the other students were bullying the hero (and he lived alone) because he was trans. I knew from the start he was trans, somehow, but it doesn't actually affect the story i guess. I hope I wrote the "you" vaguely enough, because I tried not to alienate anyone :)

You didn’t have a ‘small’ apartment, you would say. It was comfortable, just enough space for you to live, not really any wasted space. Space enough that you were prepared, that you could store anything you needed, and that was enough. Any bigger apartment would be a waste.  
People don’t often realise that villains have other jobs too. You, personally, did commissions online. You weren’t a ‘people person’ at all, and your schedule wasn’t exactly regular, so a money source that allowed for flexible hours away from other people was really the best job you could ask for. And, damn it all, you really liked to create things. Part of the reason you were so successful as a villain was that your costumes and devices were really well-made. If your life was on the line, you really had to have reliable equipment. Thus, a talent for creating was born.

You twisted in your seat to relieve an ache in your back and winced. You’d forgotten about your injury, sustained a few days ago during an intervention courtesy of your heroic nemesis. He was quite a thorn in your side, but you did respect him… you may even go far enough to say you were fond. He fought for what he thought was right, seemed to be noble enough, and had a certain endearing quality about him. You would probably be friends, if you didn’t have differing goals. You remembered a particularly harrowing instance in which he passed out during a face-off, at which point you put your contact information in his phone and set yourself as an emergency contact. Not that you actually wanted to help, but you would rather a similar instance not happen again. He seemed young, too young to be doing this kind-of work, but you weren’t really one to judge. You ended up sitting with him until he awoke, putting your cloak over him for warmth, to make sure he was safe. Not that you would admit it, and not that he actually knew, but it was a prominent memory at the moment.  
You were brought out of your reverie by your ringtone going off. That was unusual, as you could count on one hand the contacts in your phone, but you looked at it anyway. It was apparently your good nemesis, and after a moment of shocked concern, ‘why would he need to call me?’, you picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you picked up!”, the voice at the other end of the line replied. They sounded frantic, and it was certainly not your nemesis’ voice, so you were increasingly worried.

“Who is this, and what happened?”

“I am a teacher at Rylan’s school. He is currently unconscious, we think he was in a fight with some of the other students, and you were the only emergency contact we could find.”

You took a moment to process that, and there was a lot to process. You heard yourself ask the whereabouts of the school and if you needed to pick him up, and absently noted the replies. Your nemesis was a child? What kind of guardian would allow a child to fight a villain? And who would for whatever reason pick a fight with such a kind-hearted boy?

The school was only nearby, so it took you a matter of minutes to get there on your bike, and you ignored the suspicious looks you received as you entered. Not that they could know who you are, but you wore a mask to be prepared. Probably not the smartest decision for a school, but you were under a lot of stress, so you excused yourself the foolishness.

The office was the first room you saw as you rushed inside, and through the window you could see his unconscious body strewn on a couch in a back room. Without even acknowledging the frazzled teacher, you stormed your way in and checked over the boy. He was injured, seemingly not badly, but enough to hurt in a significant way. He seemed to have passed out from a blow to the head, but the limited damage to the head suggested that his attackers had fled as soon as he passed out, realising that they could be held responsible. You felt a sudden surge of rage at the horrible people who did this to him. If you were to find them, you don’t know what you’d do, but you’re certain they wouldn’t like it.

You zone back in to the teacher frantically asking your relation to him and asking you to sign something, you didn’t really care. You held up a hand to cut her off. “I am taking this boy home, because if you are incompetent enough to let this happen in the first place, I don’t trust you to care for his injuries on your own.”

She looked taken aback, then outraged, but you picked the boy up in your arms (He was so small, how could you not have noticed this sooner?) and purposefully make your way back to your bike. You organise him so that he is secure, then make the short journey to your home, setting the dark-eyed boy up on your bed. Your medical supplies are unearthed from your cupboards, and you work on patching him up to the best of your ability. Once that is done, you check his phone for parental contacts, but finding none, you decide to redress him in something not covered in blood (some old pyjamas, soft and close enough to his size), and tuck him into your bed. You leave the room and start to prepare a meal for when he wakes up, then leave that on the heat and continue your work on your computer. Every now and then you look through to his room and wonder if you made the right decision, but decide that it can wait until he is awake to worry too much about it.

I wake up in an unfamiliar room. In a few moments, I assess my situation: changed clothes, strange surroundings, but my injuries are dressed, and I don’t seem to be restrained in any way. I sit up gingerly, feeling my body’s protest, and note the open door. I have quite an easy view to a desk with someone sitting at it, working on a computer. The easy view is obviously for their benefit, possibly to keep an eye on me. They were probably the one to dress my injuries and all the rest, so I should probably thank them. 

I slide off of the bed, wincing slightly as my vision leaves me, and apparently that motion alerted the stranger, who seems somewhat familiar. As they speak, I have a sudden realisation.

“Hello there, sorry I kidnapped you from your school, but I didn’t trust them, simply.” 

The villain seemed a little socially awkward without the mask. It was a side of the villain that Rylan hadn’t seen before, and it made him a little more comfortable. At least he wasn’t with a stranger, and the villain didn’t seem to have any dangerous intentions.

“It’s okay. What happened? I passed out at school, how did I get here? And is this your house?”

They fidgeted slightly. “A while back I set my number as an emergency contact in your phone, and your school contacted me when you passed out. I didn’t trust them to take proper care of you, so I took you here to apply first-aid. I hope you don’t mind, and do you have anyone you should be going home to?”

I was a little taken-aback by that. I knew they found my health and safety important, since I can’t remember a time they have risked my injury, even though I have definitely injured them before, but I didn’t realise the lengths they would go to in order to keep me safe. I’ve had my doubts before, but it could be that they really aren’t as bad as their villain status would suggest. 

“I… appreciate your concern, and thankyou for looking after me,” I say. “I don’t mind, since you haven’t done anything that puts me in danger, and I…” I hesitate.

The villain is uncomfortably perceptive. “You live alone?”

I nod. I can’t read the villain’s emotions, but they don’t seem pleased.

The hero is correct. Your concern and anger have blended together, squeezing around your heart like a snake. You take a short breath to refocus, and note the hero’s discomfort. He is so young, to be in this situation. You feel almost personally offended on his behalf.

You consider your words carefully before speaking. “If you need to, my place is open. I don’t mind if you stay here. Someone as young as you shouldn’t have to fend for themself.”

The boy seems utterly astounded, and you can see his eyes start to water with emotion. You can’t imagine how long he’s been alone.

“Of course,” you add, “You don’t need to accept. You can leave right now and I will never interfere in your civilian life again, if you ask me to.” You pause for a moment, reaching out and taking his slim hands in your own. “But I would prefer, at least for now, for you to let me take care of you. At least until your injuries are better.”

His eyes spill over at this point. He removes his hands from yours and covers his face, and you move to sit next to him. Gently, you reach your arm over his shoulder, and after a moment, he throws himself into your chest, ducking his head into your shoulder. You enclose him softly in your arms and let him release all of his stress for a few minutes, before he pulls away, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. He coughs a little, embarrassed, and looks away before saying, “I might take you up on that offer.”

You smile at him and put your hand on his head as you stand. He scowls up at you, offended, but laughs along with you as you offer him something to eat. You’re not sure what he will decide to do in the long run, but at least for now, it’s pleasant to have someone else for company. Even if it is your nemesis. Something comes to mind, then, and as you look at him, it’s clear he knows it too. Right here, right now, you are simply two people, and when you find comfort in each other, nothing else matters.


	4. Nameless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a nameless background character in an anime, and you’ve fallen in love with the protagonist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:   
> is anime a warning?  
> harem  
> identity crisis (i guess)  
> mental breakdown (i guess)
> 
> It's so so short (800 words) but it took me 6 nours please end my life

It’s an unspoken tragedy.

I know it will never work between us. Just look at him. He’s got these gorgeous eyes, emotive and bright, holding the secrets of years of character-building. His hair, vibrant and flowing, always perfectly placed, framing his face in a way I find simply entrancing. He even has a name: Hinamoto. It’s beautiful, rare. So few people around me are granted names. A beautiful boy, so far out of my league.

And destined for someone else.

He has a harem, you know. A posse of girls, each filling a different archetype, all with one desirable thing that sets them apart, and constantly fighting. I’m certain if it weren’t for him, they would get along and be the best of friends. Sometimes, I can see it: the confusion. Why are we fighting? What is so special about him? Why do I feel this way, when I know I would prefer something else? It is tragic. Sometimes I’ll see chemistry between them, for a few minutes, a beautiful moment, before they remember their fate, the inextricable magnetism they have towards him.

I don’t know whether it makes it better or worse, that they have no more chance with him than I do.

He is destined for Her. She also has a name: Yukara. She is stunning, and I can somewhat see why he likes her. She has this long beautiful blonde hair, I sometimes wish I was close enough to touch. I wonder how soft it would be. Never a hair out of place, except near him, to show her openness and sensitivity. Always calculated, always seductive. These wide blue eyes, so deep and caring, shining with her inner emotion, tears or joy. Often both. Slim hands, delicate, caressing a stone jaw. She’s distanced, but only enough to make her desirable. She’s open, enough to seem sensitive, but never strange. She’s perfect, as perfect as he, and his perfect match. 

And then there’s us.

Without the grace of even a name, black hair, black eyes, clothes in greyscale, straight off the mannequin. Background. We can see the spotlight: it follows him, or sometimes her, or, very occasionally, his posse. Sometimes it shows some Randoms to further the Plot. You will sometimes awake with a changed look, personality, and clothing style. You will sometimes be given this purpose, and inevitably you will hope: will I be important? One day? Only to wake up the next day as you’ve always been. Forgettable.

The worst part is that I can’t help it.

He was designed to be the most attractive and desirable person someone could meet. You can’t help but watch when he walks by. You can’t help but listen when he talks. You can’t help but cry when he’s hurt, and you can’t help but laugh when he’s happy. No matter how much logic dictates that I could never have him, no matter how many times I cry myself to sleep over him, I can’t deny that I love him. And it hurts, so, so much.

Why are so many people obsessed with unrequited love?

There was a moment, ages ago. I had one of those days, where I was given a Purpose. I remember, I was Kipa, then. The only name I’ve ever had. Hinamoto looked at me. I was used to show his effect on girls – my long brown hair was captured in his soft hand, and I sighed and fell only more in love. I remember that day often. Though he knew me as Kipa, the girl who shared his Maths class, instead of the nameless faceless genderless being I am, he noticed me.

I think it made everything worse.

There was a long time after that where I couldn’t bring myself to leave my bed. Once I had lost Kipa, and was back to myself. Knowing he would never look at me again. Could not physically see me again, because characters like us are not to be seen.   
I approached one of Hinamoto’s posse, at some point. I wanted to ask her what it felt like, loving him and knowing he would never love you back. I could sense the crowd’s nervousness and tension as I approached. This was against the law. I was not allowed to intrude with the Real Characters. I came upon her, stood in front of her, and asked her. She stayed silent. I tried to get her attention, and it felt like she was seeing right through me. She opened her mouth to respond, and I felt hope rise up in me, and she called out his name, stood up, and walked straight through me.

It’s an unspoken tragedy.

This is the life I am bound to, and there’s no respite. Nothing to take the edge off. We watch from the sidelines as the Real Characters play out the scenes they were Destined for, and we wallow in hopelessness. 

I wonder if the Real Characters ever feel this way. Do they feel as trapped as we? Do they have desires that do not align with their Purpose? Regardless, I wish I was one of them. It would be better than the existence I am consigned to now.

Do they ever wish they could be one of us?


	5. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “’The Arena Gates will be opening soon. Have you decided on your weapon?’ ‘My Depression.’ ‘A bold choice.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: depression, gore, dragons, scorpions, asphyxiation, claustrophobia, smoke, being stuck, violence, blood, death, negative self-talk, isolation.
> 
> The negative self-talk is in 2nd person so please be careful if you're sensitive to that!

This would be strange, even on a normal day. The serene sense of calm that fills you as you await your fate, separated from it only by the cast iron gates before you. You assume it’s to do with the inevitability: when there is only one path, there is nothing to fear. 

You have made a bold decision in coming here today, to the Coliseum. The Emperor’s Pet was the primary source of entertainment, consuming tens of poor desperate volunteers every day, and this morning, you were the prey. 

You hear screaming through the gates, and out of your peripheral vision, a blood spatter soaks the pink sand. The Pet seemed to have taken the form of a huge dragon. The queue collectively shudders, the tension thickening. Out in the stands, the audience cheers, bloodthirsty and savage; in here, the terror seeps into your ears, up through your nose, as you breathe it in your lungs constrict, it coats your throat in viscous tar, blinding, searing. One person screams and is taken by the guards. You don’t know what happens to them.

The next volunteer is shoved viciously through the gates, and only has time to turn with anguished eyes as they clang shut behind him. He turns back slowly, armed with his dagger, protected by his leather, and the nightmarish dragon locks a sickly yellow eye onto his tense form. You watch as it shifts into his worst nightmare and look away as the poor man is mutilated. He didn’t even last a minute.

You can sense the concern from your well-armed peers. Some are fully suited, with heavy broadswords and steel armour. Some carry bows with copious arrows, in camouflaging leathers. Some use whips and lassos, and some use hammers and axes. One person brought a scythe. They judge you, stood in your day-clothes, cotton and wool, and weaponless. You can almost hear their terror. 

Internally, you smile. It will be okay. You know what you will face out there.

After far too little time, the queue winds down so that you are next to be brutalised. The Pet was in the form of a scorpion, 20 feet tall and black as tar. You watch its yellow eye as it scans you, seeing into your soul. You hear the crowd hush at this unarmed unarmoured beggar. As the Pet hesitates, they fall silent.

The Pet disappears into mist, hesitating longer, finding a corporeal state that would suit your Fear. It takes a full minute until it coalesces into tar, pooling around the arena. The air is choked with black smoke, and you can see the Eye peering at you through it. It stares at you as the smoke settles in your lungs, forcing you to wheeze. The tar climbs up your legs, deeper and deeper. You are trapped in the inky blackness, and as your vision fades, you hear the voices. 

They berate you silently, cursing you, calling you worthless. You deserve to die. You are unnecessary. You are pointless. Mistake. Friendless. Unloved. It echoes around the arena, boring holes into every observer. Total, complete blackness. Total, complete isolation.

All according to plan.

You close your eyes gently, collect your mind, and breathe. As you breathe in, you start to cough, but resist. Three deep breaths later, and your lungs are clear. The smoke clears around you, rippling against your barrier. You will not let it touch you.

Breathing again, this time deeper, you open your eyes. The yellow Eye stares back at you, unfeeling. 

Calmly, sedately, you take one step forward. The tar melts around your legs, and your movement is freed. You breathe again, you mind perfectly clear, and you take another step. You smile at the Monster and breathe.

The black smoke and tar recoil, looking for all the world like a living entity. They seem burned. There is an intangible barrier between you and it, and it is completely incapable of crossing.

You breathe again, and as you exhale, the entity flinches away, receding further. After a few moments, it is backed against the wall. 

‘The thing about Depression,’ you think, ‘is that I’ve already learned to face my worst fear. Every second of my life is a battle with you.’

You walk forward in a comfortable stride, leaning down to snatch a short dagger, the final reminder of a dead companion. The entity shrinks away, losing its camouflage, and there sits a being. It was clearly once human, deformed and tainted by pain and torture. No longer human, no longer sentient, it still stirs emotion in you, and you smile sadly.

‘When I’ve learned how to defeat you, you’re not that scary at all.’

You drive the dagger into the Thing’s ribcage where its heart should be. It leaks a pitch-like substance, and goes limp, and you leave the dagger, drawing back. The crowd is still silent. Turning to the balcony, you lock eyes with the Emperor. After a moment, you smile once again, and head towards the exit. The guards silently open the gates for you, and you pass through, ignoring the looks of the incredulous people who would have been killed.

Sometimes, those who look the weakest are strong from countless battles you’ll never see. Sometimes, the only weapon you need to fight a monster is a clear head.

Sometimes, in the endless battles with impossible foes that can last you your entire life: you win.


End file.
